


keep you warm tonight

by couldaughter



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, M/M, this is not even the most ridiculous thing i've ever written
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-15
Updated: 2013-05-15
Packaged: 2017-12-11 23:32:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/804521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/couldaughter/pseuds/couldaughter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire could feel Enjolras' quiet disapproval radiating behind him, but refused to look up and lose the battle. Eventually he heard the other boy sigh and turn back to his books, although Grantaire spotted a SPEW leaflet tucked between two of the pages.</p>
            </blockquote>





	keep you warm tonight

“We've got to stop meeting like this.” Grantaire said, grinning as he helped Enjolras up from the floor where they'd collided.

The slytherin boy brushed his robes off with a huff and turned to go back into the library, and presumably to escape Grantaire's attempts at reconciliation. He stopped him, reaching out an impulsive hand to catch Enjolras by the shoulder of his robes.

“Honestly, Enjolras, you'd think I was contagious, the speed you run away from me these days.” His smile slid into something more vicious. “Was the sex really that bad, darling? You could've said, rather than giving me the cold shoulder all these weeks.” He rested a hand across his chest, pouting, as Enjolras whipped round.

He stalked back to Grantaire, furious. “You know perfectly well why we haven't spoken, R. Perhaps you should remind yourself of that fact, before blaming me for your faults.” Then, in a dramatic swish of his robes, Enjolras was halfway down the opposite staircase.

Grantaire stared mutely after him. Mechanically, he turned back to the library, tucking his yellow and black scarf more securely around his neck. Then, with a whispered curse, he span back around and ran down six flights of stairs. He was late to Potions.

\--------------------

Thankfully the weeks before the Christmas holiday were winding to a close and Professor Javert was being slightly less totalitarian than usual. Possibly Courfeyrac's antics had finally worn him down into his quietly resigned state.

In any case, Grantaire managed to slip in unnoticed by some miracle and take his place at the bench next to Prouvaire, who was half heartedly slicing a shrivelfig with his mind clearly halfway through his next sonnet. Grantaire reached over and rescued the knife just as the other boy reached the edges of his fingernails.

“Honestly, Prouvaire, you'd think you want a severed artery. The blood of the innocent is not a cure all, I'm afraid, and even then you are not innocent.”

Jehan smiled widely, then turned back to the ingredients list. Grantaire grimaced at the pungent smell emerging from the cauldron and sat down, absently scribbling on the corner of some spare parchment.

He only realised later on in the day, spreading out his unfinished Herbology work, that he'd drawn Enjolras in that moment of fury, hair sprawling across the page and spooling lazily around incantations. Grantaire missed the times he could bury his hands in it and tug Enjolras closer, closer- but it's been weeks, now, since he was allowed, and he's still not sure what he did to deserve that.

Herbology was torturous as Professor Fauchelevent talked them through the examination process – the cultivation of floating dahlias, and then an essay on the correct soil conditions needed for perfect mandrake development. Grantaire was still mystified as to why he'd chosen the course – although he had filled out the application while drunk. He'd signed up for divination as well, for some unknown reason, and then been unable to drop it after accidentally passing the exam.

He nearly ran into Enjolras twice more that day, once outside the Great Hall and once outside the entrance to the Hufflepuff common room, where Enjolras retreated so quickly Grantaire didn't even get the chance to ask why he was there in the first place. The only other Hufflepuffs that Enjolras associated with were Marius and Bossuet, who both spent all of their time in other common rooms under the carefully blind gaze of the heads of house. He didn't dare to hope that Enjolras might have been there to talk to him.

Blessedly, Grantaire only took one NEWT with Enjolras, and so for a blissful 15 lessons a week he could avoid the cold stare he felt prickling the back of his neck whenever they were in the same room. The five hours they had to sit together were somewhat torturous, but happily Grantaire had stopped paying attention in History of Magic in second year and wasn't going to start halfway through seventh. Instead he occupied his time trying to remember what he'd done to break it off with Enjolras, since he definitely did not remember it. Then he drew an elaborate cartoon of Professor Binns being sucked into a vacuum cleaner.

Grantaire could feel Enjolras' quiet disapproval radiating behind him, but refused to look up and lose the battle. Eventually he heard the other boy sigh and turn back to his books, although Grantaire spotted a SPEW leaflet tucked between two of the pages. Enjolras had never been a particularly attentive student, but he liked to pretend.

The hour crawled by, the gentle rhythm of Binns' droning voice not quite enough to send Grantaire to sleep but enough to make him uncomfortably drowsy. Enjolras spent the entire time scribbling something Grantaire was completely certain were not notes on the Goblin-Merpeople Accords of 1596 and was more likely another speech for the weekly SPEW meeting. He packed up his bag quickly and made sure to be ahead of the crush of people heading out of the door.

As he walked down the corridor towards the stairs, he could swear he heard someone call his name, but ignored it. He couldn't afford to be late to Divination again, no matter how awful the professor was.

\--------------------

Feeling higher than usual after leaving the smoke filled Divination classroom, Grantaire heaved a sigh of relief at another day successfully navigated without too much trouble. Although the absence of Enjolras' light tones from his day had left him feeling emptier than usual, he was getting more used to it by the day.

Just as he was in danger of slipping into melancholia, a familiar voice called out.

“R! Stop for a minute!”

Courfeyrac was an interesting specimen of a Gryffindor. Although he spent a good deal of his time chasing girls and the occasional boy, it was pretty easy to tell after even a short conversation that it had morphed into a hobby rather than an actual interest. Except for whatever was going on between him and Jehan, which had been on and off since their fifth year and was confusing to nearly everybody.

Grantaire smiled anyway. “Yes, Courf? If it's an invitation to your meeting I'm afraid I'll have to decline. I'm too busy being oppressed by the purebloods.” He fell into step beside Courfeyrac, schoolbag bouncing painfully against his thigh.

Courfeyrac laughed. “No, I gave up on indoctrinating you years ago. I can tell a lost cause when I see one.” He stopped short. “Oh, sorry, R, I didn't mean-”

“It's fine, Courf. I get enough of that from everyone else, someone saying it by accident isn't going to faze me.” Grantaire smiled brightly.

They walked the rest of the way to the Great Hall in silence.

\--------------------

The Great Hall was excellent territory for anyone who wanted to avoid someone – there was barely enough space on the benches for everyone on the Hufflepuff table, so enough house mixing happened to make finding someone who didn't want to be found nigh on impossible. That didn't shake the fact that Grantaire could feel someone staring at him.

Bossuet nudged him in the side. “I think Enjolras is looking for you.” He grinned easily. Bossuet was surprisingly cheerful for a boy who'd nearly been expelled 8 separate times for catastrophic potions accidents, and was permanently bald due to a severe splinching accident.

He'd been the only student in the class banned from apparition for medical considerations.

“Whether he's looking for me or not, I'm not in the mood to be found.”

Bossuet looked mildly surprised, although that could have been because he was still missing his eyebrows after his last Charms incident. “What's going on between you two? I thought it was, y'know, good?”

Grantaire grimaced. “You know I don't like talking about this, Bossuet.”

“I know something must have happened, considering you've actively avoided talking about him for three weeks so much that Marius noticed.” That was a surprise to Grantaire – Marius was a nice enough person, but incredibly emotionally inept.

“Well, if I have to be honest with you for you to leave it alone – I'm not sure what happened either.” Grantaire was not known for his sobriety, but the night before Enjolras had broken things off was still a blank space in his memory. It terrified him, sometimes, and was the reason his hands shook for the first week. He hadn't been blind drunk for months, before that.

Bossuet frowned. “That's not good, R. Maybe you should ask him?”

“You think I haven't asked him?” Grantaire snapped. “I'm sorry my relationship skills are clearly so inferior to yours that you'd assume I didn't even entertain the thought.” Then he sighed again. “Sorry, it's just- I asked him, but he assumed I was joking and hit the roof. Almost literally.”

Apparently the outburst had been loud enough to attract the attention of Marius, who had been reading a book under the table but now looked across to where Grantaire and Bossuet were sitting opposite. “Maybe you should try talking to him again. I remember when Cosette and I had our first argument, it took weeks before they'd speak to me.” He smiled, his mind clearly on his partner. Their relationship was almost offensive in how perfect it was.

Grantaire rolled his eyes, and got up to leave. He wasn't that hungry, anyway.

\--------------------

The thought wouldn't leave his head, though, chewing at his attentions for the next week. He knew whatever he'd done must have been horrific, considering the things he'd done before then that hadn't completely alienated Enjolras. He winced at some of the memories that thought stirred up.

Eventually, the resolution presented itself. He knew Professor Valjean was apparently some kind of memory expert, and since whatever had happened really wasn't forthcoming, Grantaire went to ask him about it.

Knocking on the office door was the hardest thing Grantaire had done in years. The soft and immediate 'enter' calmed him slightly. Although he'd dropped Magical Theory as soon as possible, Valjean had always been a calm and assured teacher. It was just that the subject was excruciatingly boring.

The Professor looked up from his marking, and smiled. “Ah, Monsieur Grantaire, what is it you need to see me for?” His slight French accent tripped over the words. Apparently he'd taught at Beauxbatons for years.

“I've got a memory problem.” Grantaire said bluntly. “I'd heard you might be able to help.”

Valjean raised his eyebrows. “That's a concern, is it not? What do you mean, a problem?”

“I... fell out with someone. But I don't remember the night it happened.”

“Well, you are right in knowing that I have memory retrieval training.” He beckoned Grantaire towards the desk. “It's not much pleasant, though, I am afraid.”

Grantaire smiled. “Not much is, Professor.”

“If this is your wish, then.”

\--------------------

Grantaire walked down the hallway slowly, rubbing his head. At least he knew what he'd done, now. It had been a lot more painful than he'd expected, honestly – the memory itself was what had caused trouble.

He needed to find Enjolras, as soon as he could. 

The pain in his head spiked as he finally reached the wall outside the Slytherin common room, making him stumble a little. 

That was when he realised he didn't know the password anymore, and the likelihood of a friendly Slytherin like Musichetta or Bahorel appearing was very low at that time in the evening. The meeting with Professor Valjean had taken much longer than he'd expected, and it was close to curfew.

He turned back, intending to go searching in the direction of Library and then go to sleep, when a wave of dizziness struck him. “Hmmm,” he mumbled, sitting down hard on the stone floor. “This is probably what Valjean warned me about.” He was very tired.

\--------------------

Grantaire woke up to someone gripping his shoulders. He opened his eyes slowly, the pain in his head diminished but still threatening to flare up at any time.

The blurry halo of gold hair was practically a vision. “Are you a rescuing angel now, Enjolras? I always knew I was a bad influence on you.”

Enjolras' expression turned to annoyance. “Are you still truly so insistent on this? I had thought you were done with putting yourself in harm's way.”

“I'm sorry.” said Grantaire, suddenly. “For what I said.”

“No,” said Enjolras, face softening. “I'm sorry. I should not have reacted as I did. Although I cannot say I am used to drunk declarations of love.”

Grantaire stopped, surprised by the admission. “Apology accepted, I suppose.” He glanced up again, almost shocked at the lack of anger. “Although, I would be much obliged if you could assist me in one thing – I don't know that I can stand up without help.”

Enjolras stood up immediately, offering a hand.

Grantaire reached out his own hand, smiling slightly. “Do you permit it?”

Enjolras huffed and pulled him upright. He didn't let go of Grantaire's hand.

“As much as I enjoy the sensation, I would quite like the use of both hands. Unless you're planning to follow me back to my common room.” Grantaire smiled again. He felt happiness warring with the remaining dizziness, he was light.

Enjolras looked at him for a long moment, then smiled. It was as unexpected as it was beautiful, and Grantaire longed to kiss it.

They were standing very close together. Grantaire breathed slowly.

“When I told you I loved you- I am sorry for saying it like that. It should be a sober man's confession. But it's not any less true.”

Enjolras kept smiling. “I am sorry for acting as if I did not- well, I am sorry for acting as I have done. Your depth of feeling was doubtful to me, at first.”

“And then?” asked Grantaire, sensing that something had been left unsaid.

The other boy flushed. “Cosette confronted me. They are remarkable when infuriated; I can understand what Pontmercy sees in them.”

Cosette had been a good friend of Grantaire's since their first year. He realised with a pang of guilt that he'd been avoiding them recently, as much as he had been avoiding Enjolras or Marius. They must have noticed.

“They most certainly are.” Then he smiled again. “So, are we to abandon each other once again? Have you decided to pursue other people? Marius's little friend Éponine, perhaps?”

Enjolras looked perplexed. “Which one is Éponine? You know perfectly well I pay little attention to the 'fairer sex'.” Enjolras said this complete with finger quotes. Grantaire was quite certain he would be unable to love him any more than he did in that moment. “And besides,” he continued in a lower tone. “I am not interested in another relationship. I would prefer to- to recommence our own. I realise this might not be the way to approach the question, and as I am the one at fault I would not be offended if you declined, but I have missed you, and-”

Grantaire kissed him. His hands wound through Enjolras's long hair almost instinctively, Enjolras smiling against his mouth. They broke apart with a sigh and a smile, and the realisation that they were still in a semi-public space in a school where public kissing was detention-worthy.

“I take it this means you accept?” asked Enjolras, ducking his head slightly, clearly embarrassed at the display.

“Honestly, Enjolras, do you think I kiss just anybody?” asked Grantaire, as they wandered into an empty classroom.

He shrugged. “Well, Jehan seems to enjoy kissing the rest of our friends, I had thought-”

“You are ridiculous,” said Grantaire. “Kiss me again and I might forgive you the insult.”

It was a long while before either of them returned to their common rooms.

**Author's Note:**

> aka the little au that could. this is probably the first in a series of short fics set in this universe, because i really don't know when to stop. the title is from 'a cauldron full of hot, strong love' because i am silly. also grantaire is definitely an unironic celestina warbeck fan.


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